Silence is Golden
by weasleyisourking934
Summary: "See, when I was your age, I saw something real bad happen to my mom, and I was scared, too. I didn't feel like talking, just like you. But see, my mom, I know she wanted me to be brave. I think about that every day. And I do my best to be brave." Missing scene from 1.03- Dead in the Water. Sam wants to know the truth about Dean's words.


Sam glanced at his brother in the driver's seat whose eyes were glued firmly on the road. Dean tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel as Led Zeppelin played at full volume from the worn out car radio. Sam opened his mouth hesitantly to say something, but, words failing him, he sighed and instead looked down at his feet. He considered the best way to ask Dean about his conversation with Lucas. Dean's confession to Lucas had surprised and humbled Sam, showing him a side of his brother that he was ashamed he had never known.

Finally, deciding that it would be impossible to get a decent response out of his brother with Led Zeppelin playing, he leaned forward and switched off the radio.

"I was listening to that!" complained Dean, "I know you're not the biggest Zeppelin fan, Francis, but you know the rules. Driver picks the music-"

"-shotgun shuts his cake hole." Finished Sam, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I know."

"Then what's wrong?" he asked, taking his eyes off the road to scan his little brother.

"What you said to Lucas..." began Sam.

Dean instantly fixed his eyes back on the road.

"... About Mom..."

Dean lifted his chin a little higher and stared determinedly at anywhere but Sam.

"You never told me that before." Sam finished.

"It's no big deal," replied Dean gruffly.

Sam continued to watch his brother for signs he would elaborate, and was unsurprised when no more was said. He had expected as much. Dean was never one for talking about his feelings, and only a couple of times in his life had he heard Dean talk about their Mother. They were rare moments of information that Sam savoured. But he never asked for more. He knew how hard their Mom's death had been for Dean, but he never knew how much the night of the fire had traumatized him. He hadn't felt like talking- like Lucas.  
After hearing this small snippet of information about Dean's childhood, hundreds of questions bubbled to the surface. Why didn't you feel like talking? What did Dad do about it? What made you talk again? But he kept quiet, and averted his eyes from his brother.

When Dean was sure his brothers gaze had left him, he chanced a quick look at his brother. Sam was sitting slumped in the seat, eyes down, hands curled in his lap. He debated turning the radio back on, but instead, took a deep breath and cleared his throat. When Sam's head jerked up he focused his eyes ahead, but said awkwardly,  
"I know I don't...y'know... talk about... Mom... that much, but it doesn't mean you can't ask me anything."

Sam's eyebrows lifted in surprise. He didn't hesitate in starting to ask questions; Dean rarely opened up and it'd be foolish to waste this opportunity.

"Was it true? What you said to Lucas?"

"About Mom?"

"About you not talking."

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you feel like talking?"

"Would you feel like talking if you'd woke up because smoke was blocking your airways and you'd had to run out of the house with a 6 month old baby to watch your home burn down with your mother still inside?"  
As soon as the words had left his mouth, Dean regretted it. There was a pause.

"Sorry." He said lamely.

"Dean, I-" began Sam.

"It's fine." He said firmly.

But Sam still didn't continue. There was a pause.

"Dad tried to get me to talk for a while," Sam looked up, surprised, as Dean began to talk again, Sam hadn't expected his father to be the type to help a child who simply refused to talk, "He wanted to know if I'd seen anything unusual, you know- sulphur, black smoke, the usual drill." Sam nodded in reply. Of course there had been no concern for his son. Hunting the demon had always come before either of them.

"I don't know why I didn't feel like talking," Dean hesitated, "I guess it was shock to start with, but then there wasn't anyone talk to anyway. Dad was hunting, you were a baby..." Dean trailed off.  
The sudden realization of what Dean's childhood must have been like suddenly hit Sam in full force. His blood boiled. What kind of father leaves a 5 year old alone with a baby?! Especially after what Dean had been through!

"Considering Dad wasn't around," spat Sam venomously, "Why did you start talking again?"  
Sam's anger was replaced with puzzlement as Dean grinned over at him.

"Because _you _started asking questions." He replied. "Always was a nosy little pain in the ass..."

Sam smiled reluctantly.

"So Dad had nothing to do with you talking again. He just left you to get on with it?" He questioned, anger rising again.

Dean sighed heavily and he moaned half-heartedly "Give him a break, Sam, OK?"

"Why?! Why should I? He was a lousy Dad! Neither of us had a childhood- especially you! What kind of father leaves his 5 year old son to look after a baby? How can you defend him like that?"

"Look!" exclaimed Dean, interrupting Sam's rant, "I know _two_ Dads, the one before the fire and the one after. You only know one. Considering what he went through, he raised us the best he could!"

"He didn't raise me." Sam said quietly. "You did."

Dean looked over at Sam, and for the first time their eyes met.  
There was another short pause.

"Hey," grinned Dean, as he switched the radio back on "No chick-flick moments."


End file.
